


Friendly Neighborhood Freefall

by DanteSKrauser



Category: Marvel, Marvel: Ultimate Alliance (Video Game), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome Jean Grey, Awkward Crush, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Graphic Description, Grieving Peter Parker, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Love/Hate Banter, Mild Flirtatious Teasing, Past Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Past Peter Parker/Carol Danvers, Past Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Reconciliation, bleeding heart, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28871478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanteSKrauser/pseuds/DanteSKrauser
Summary: Peter Parker is the spectacular Spider-Man, your friendly neighborhood Avenger... and a grieving widow. While in attendance for a party, Peter commits reckless mistakes amid a bleeding heart and is cast out of Avengers Tower for the night. He seeks some long-needed emotional solace and comfort from an occasional acquaintance. (Part of my MUA-3009 universe)
Relationships: Carol Danvers/Steve Rogers, Clint Barton/Janet Van Dyne, Elizabeth Braddock/Logan (X-Men), Jean Grey/Peter Parker
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. I Miss Her...

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, fellow reader! I shall have more comprehensive notes on the second chapter. Enjoy the latest chapter!

He runs. He runs as far away from Avengers Tower as he can, his limber legs hastily carrying him from block to block under the starry-filled night sky. He didn’t want to call for a cab, nor did he have his web shooters equipped. He wasn’t going to spend the night at the hotel; He felt it would be better to sojourn in more familiar and friendlier grounds. Oh, how the late Mary Jane Watson must feel about the recently widowed Peter Benjamin Parker right now. Would she feel shame? Yes she would, especially if she found out how the amazingly foolish Spider-Man had disrespected his boyhood idol, Captain America, in the worst way possible by-

_‘NO!’_ Peter shakes his head vigorously, nearing his destination whilst jumping over a couple of steel-barred driveway gates. _‘I don’t want to relive that moment! I feel awful about it right now. Cap is deeply disappointed in me, and Carol’s tremendously furious. I won’t even speculate how the other Avengers feel about me at this moment. Alright, Peter. There’s light shining in some of the mansion’s windows. Let’s see if anyone’s up at this hour.’_

Peter approached the mahogany double-door entrance of the Xavier Institute, a safe haven for mutants and living quarters of the X-Men. He raised his right hand as his knuckles rapidly tapped the wooden contraption four times. A few seconds pass, and the left-sided door was lightly pulled ajar by one of the X-Men’s most notable telepaths: Jean Grey, constant bearer of the omnipotent Phoenix Force. She was wearing a long-sleeved, lavender fleece-knitted shirt and navy-blue skinny jeans.

“Peter Parker!” she gasped. Though his presence was not unwelcome, it was unexpected. His appearance was unkempt, to say the least; His light gray sweatshirt and black khaki pants were in dubious wrinkled form, but only his black sneakers remained unscathed. His brown hair was wiry and disheveled, and various areas of his face displayed a litany of deep purple bruises. “Forgive me, but you look terrible. What’s happened to you, and what brings you here at this hour?”

His thoughts were severely muddled, and his breath quivered, struggling to speak. “Mrs. Grey, I, uh… Carol’s in ‘Killer Kree Mode’ right now. I hurt Captain America so badly when I- He’s a good man, he didn’t deserve that! I didn’t… I don’t know-”

Jean gently placed her hands atop Peter’s trembling shoulders, her green eyes gazing intently at his frightened hazels. “Peter, I need you to take a few deep breaths and clear your mind of all pervading thoughts.”

Peter clasped his hands on Jean’s wrists as his face contorted into pitiful anguish. “I can’t! I screwed up! I’m a horrible person! I ruined our party at Avengers Tower by getting needlessly inebriated through Thor’s mead, acted like a foolish flirt towards various women, and…” No other words escaped his lips as his head collapsed on Jean’s right shoulder and his arms encircled the small of her back.

With a downtrodden Peter weeping on her form, Jean ensnared his waist with her left arm and slowly stroked his brown hair with her right hand. “Peter… I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way tonight. Shh, shh… It’s going to be okay. You are not a horrible person. Almost everyone that’s ever worked with you likes you so much. Even Logan likes you, and he doesn’t like too many people.”

As the sobbing of Peter gradually subsided, he lifted his head off the shoulder of Jean, whom flashed him a warm smile once they made eye contact. Patting his head twice, she remarked, “There you go. You’re starting to calm down. Now why don’t you come inside so we can sort out everything that’s been troubling you, what do you say?”

Walking into the confines of the Institute alongside Jean, Peter replied, “Things that trouble me? Mrs. Grey, I’m the walking baggage of trouble that pesters everyone around me. Even the bugs don’t like me!”

The previous remark causes the red-haired guidance counselor to elicit a brief chuckle.

Jean had guided Peter to one of the common rooms of the mansion, the wall-crawler taking a seat on one of several couches stationed within the encompassing area. She walked into the kitchen to procure one unit of bottled water from the refrigerator, returned to his spot and held out the encapsulating piece of plastic a few meters away from his face.

“Thanks,” Peter muttered as his right hand clasped the bottle. Twisting off the cap, he placed his lips around the spout and arched it diagonally upside down, chugging the clear fluids down his throat. Content with quenching his thirst, Peter placed the half-full bottle onto a small, mahogany pedestal table to his right side. Jean had already seated herself next to him, crossing her left leg over her right knee and gently laying her right hand on his left shoulder. As their eyes met one another, Jean broke the silence. “Alright, Mr. Parker. Now that your nerves are stable, I need you to tell me everything that’s happened to you within tonight, starting from the top.”

Peter vigorously shook his head. “No, the memories are too fresh and the pain is still unbearable. Just read my mind and see it for yourself.”

Jean lightly tapped his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I refuse to read your mind, Peter. Confronting this uncomfortable ordeal and relaying it to me is the only way I can help you get through this. You’re one of the most resilient men I’ve ever met in this world. If there’s anyone that can overcome life’s most harrowing challenges, it’s you.”

The web slinger peered his gaze away from Jean’s, closed his eyes and took a few short breaths. Opening his eyes once more, he looked back into the emerald green eyes of the telepathic guidance counselor. “Okay, Mrs. Grey. I think I’m ready.”

Jean briefly held up her left-handed index finger. “Before we begin, I need you to stop addressing me as Mrs. Grey.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “How come? What happened between you and Slim?”

Jean’s eyes were downcast as she sighed deeply. “Scott and I are divorced. We’ve been that way well before the Black Order’s invasion on Earth.”

“Sorry to hear that. How exactly did that play out?”

As her index finger tapped her sly smirk, Jean replied: “Tell you what, Peter: Once you tell me everything about your bad night, I’ll fill you in on the recent mishaps of us X-Men. Well, the condensed version at least.”

Peter nodded affirmingly. “Fair enough. Well, for the past few months I’ve been endlessly mourning the death of my wife, Mary Jane. One night I was tasked into suppressing a violent disturbance with some Avengers. Our assistance was enlisted by Daredevil and the Heroes For Hire, Luke Cage and Iron Fist. Mary Jane and I were hanging out at the park when Cap gave me the call about the fracas. She insisted that she wanted to stay by my side and help out any way she could. I let her do so, against my better judgment, just as long as she stayed in our car. We fought against a mafia crime family led by an atrocious scumbag named Nicky Cavella. What was just as horrifying was that we were receiving assistance from the brutal Frank Castle, notoriously known as the Punisher. Pretty sad to say this, but he was actually a big help that night or we would’ve lost more innocents. Cutting to the chase, I engaged Cavella in a fight, yet he managed to beat me down.”

“How in the world did an unpowered mafioso best you in combat?” Jean inquired, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, his momentum shift began when he kicked me in the spider jewels. Then he grabbed a taser out of his pants pocket and proceeds to jam it into my chest. As I was convulsing on the ground with what felt like ten thousand volts of electricity coursing through my body, he discards his Electro-knockoff weapon and starts beating me with raw, unadulterated strength by way of his fists. He may have been on mutant growth hormones that enhances one’s strength, but I didn’t exactly have time to make a thorough analysis. Once he was finished using me as a punching bag, he procured a microtech hawk from his suit jacket, preparing to gut me like a fish. As if on cue, MJ sneaks up behind the sleazeball and jams her own taser on the back of his neck. Then she brandishes an expandable baton and starts bludgeoning his skull, face and shoulders. Things took an ugly turn when Cavella backhanded her to the ground and unleashed a flurry of mounted punches. I was so weakened from my fight against him I couldn’t get off the ground and pry that maniac off my wife. The only thing I could do was beg and plead Cavella to stop assaulting her. He turned to me, grabbed MJ by the hair and looked at me dead in the eyes, smiling. He was flaunting over brutalizing MJ’s beautiful face; she was practically unrecognizable! So then Cavella raised his knife and… He…”

Tears dribbled down his cheeks once again. Jean slowly strokes the back of his neck with her fingertips. “I’m here, Peter. You’re doing an amazing job of telling me your story. It’s always difficult for anyone to relive the passing of their loved ones, so this is a courageous step for you. Take your time, and resume when you’re ready.”

Wiping away his tears, Peter drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled from his mouth. “That sadistic psycho stabbed her everywhere; Her chest, stomach, throat… She looked like a victim from a horror movie. The evisceration of MJ enraged me so badly, I sprang up off the ground, tackled him and punched his face thrice. Unfortunately, that was all I could muster, as I was still very weakened. Cavella flipped me over onto my back, punched my nose four times and raises his microtech hawk over his head once more. Before his blade met my flesh, I heard three gunshots ring across the dusk sky. Two bullets zoomed over Cavella’s slick back hair while the third slug hit his left breast. He had to have been wearing a Kevlar vest underneath his shirt cuz he briefly stumbled on his ass but bounced right back up and ran away from my position. Next thing you know, Castle marches up to me, lowers his handgun and kneels over me. He tells me only this: ‘Parker, if your girl doesn’t make it, I’m sorry for your loss. Rest assured, I’m ending this maggot piece-of-shit tonight. Your friends will NOT stand in my way. _’_ I hazily recall him dialing in 911 as an anonymous tipster before running off, continuing his hunt for Cavella. I slowly crawled to the body of MJ and cradled her bloodied form in my arms. I was kissing her blood-spattered visage, encouraging her to resist the urge to close her eyes. I begged her not to go to sleep and repeatedly told her how much I loved her. Her dazzling, angelic eyes were eventually enveloped by her eyelids. I vaguely remember my friends circling around me; Cap, Carol, Sam, Matt, Luke and Danny were mortified at Cavella’s butchering of an innocent woman. But me? What did I do? Did I scream out to the sky? Did I bury my face into her shoulder, shedding tears? Did I utter a string of curses and swear vengeance upon Nicky Cavella? Nope. My mouth was agape. No tears fell from my eyes. I felt numb, hollow, and lifeless. I remained where I was until the paramedics arrived. Soon after, the death certificate was finalized. The funeral proceedings were emotionally taxing on me. Mr. Stark offered me residence at Avengers Tower; He probably wanted to keep tabs on me in case I did something foolish like lash out at innocents or attempt suicide. Initially I declined, but I resented being alone, so I accepted his offer the second time. I packed my possessions and moved them into my new suite. Presently, a third of my day is spent in my bedroom mourning MJ. I don’t come out for anything unless the Avengers embark on a mission. I did skip the whole Doctor Doom fiasco, for your information.”

Jean nodded, thumbing her chin. “That explains your absence when some of us fought against him and a revived Celestial. Thank you so much for divulging your traumatic experience with me. Even in the face of terrifying anguish, you displayed unyielding courage. I know what’s going through your mind: _‘_ Why Mary Jane and not me? _’_ Your wife loved you with all her heart and soul. You were in danger, and she wanted to pull you out of it. You were always there to save her life, so it was only fitting that she returned the favor. Though she failed to subdue Cavella, she succeeded in saving the most important person in her life: You. The devotion between you both is astonishingly unrivaled.”

Peter smiled, if ever so slightly. “I appreciate you letting me confide my grievances to you, Ms. Grey. Thanks for lending me your ears.”

Jean wagged her right-handed index finger, clicking her tongue. “We’re not quite finished, Mr. Parker. You still gotta tell me what has transpired earlier tonight. By the way, call me Jean. No need to be formal.”

Peter huffed a quick breath, clapping his hands. “Okay, here goes nothing…” 


	2. Slinging Into Rock Bottom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The depths of Peter's sadness come to light in the worst way after the wall-crawler impulsively imbibes one of the most potent alcoholic beverages in the universe. Also, Clint and Janet engage in some love/hate pillow talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! This project was particularly cathartic, and I had wanted to portray Peter as a self-hating widow who spends months chastising himself for his failure to save Mary Jane's life. Also, Peter is established as a grown adult; He's in his late 30s, give or take. Songs that have helped and inspired me have been Trivium's "Dying In Your Arms" for the first two chapters and Pop Evil's "Footsteps (Go Higher)" for the final chapter. Enjoy the latest chapter!

-Avengers Tower, Few Hours Ago

Atop Hawkeye’s king-sized mattress, Clint and Janet cuddled each other underneath milky-white bedsheets. Usually, the verbally-flippant archer would take the fashion enthusiast out for lunch, take walks around the city or blow off steam in the tower’s firing range with either standard handguns or his signature bow. Whenever the latter situation occurred, it was Clint committing all the shooting and Jan would just watch. She was perfectly content with her bio-electric stings, thank you very much. So what in God’s name did the former Ronin put on his list of things to do for today? Sleep in. Play Nintendo Switch. Initiate body-rocking sex. Never come out of his suite. Repeat.

“What does Cap like to say? I can do this all day,” Clint sighed contentedly whilst Janet nuzzled her head on his toned chest. “It’s good to know I’ve still got it.”

As he softly stroked her raven-haired bob cut, his beloved Waspy snorted. “You’re barely decent under the sheets, and you suck even harder at Super Smash Bros. I also squash you in Splatoon 2, and I’m awful at shooters. Your chest is reasonably comfy, though.”

Clint cackled with unbridled joy. The woman who constantly berates him sends him a rare compliment at last! “I knew you had at least one good thing to say about me! I’m such a lucky guy.”

“No, you’re such an airheaded birdbrain,” Jan rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I waste precious time sleeping with you when I could be hanging out with smarter individuals like Scott or the shellheads. Oh great, your speech patterns have passed onto me! You’re excruciatingly aggravating, Clinton!”

Grinning like a kid in a candy store, the master marksman kissed the nimble Wasp’s forehead. “That’s not what you were saying this morning. I believe one of the phrases you screamed was, ‘Oh Clinton, you rock my fucking world!’ Oh, and I love you too, dearest Jan.”

Jan aimed her left-handed index finger at the dresser stationed opposite near the footboard of their bed. Atop its surface was a 32-inch HDTV, plus a Nintendo Switch nestled in its TV dock. “I’ve heard enough of your big mouth. Boot up Smash! I can’t wait to wipe that stupid smirk off your face.”

As Clint rose off the comfort of his bed, his smartphone buzzed briefly at his bedside table situated to his right. He snatched it with his right hand and viewed a text message sent from Scott Lang displayed on his lock screen, which in itself featured Hawkeye and Wasp pecking each other’s lips inside a diner. The bite-sized passage reads as follows: _‘Tony’s throwing a random celebration at 7:00 PM. You in? If so, bring along all willing participants.’_

“Who’s that?” Jan lifted her head off Clint’s chest.

“Scott messaged me. Tony’s hosting a party later tonight. Hold up…”

A quick few taps on his touch screen…

“…And I just told him that we’ll be there. You wanna dress up or go casual?”

Jan swiftly sputtered her tongue, ensuing a farting noise. “We’re dressing up, imbecile. Duh!”

Clint wraps his arms around her petite form, lovingly pecking her cheeks and lips. “Okay, but let’s have a few more rounds of sexy time.”

“Goodness Clint, we’re gonna be late! Oh, whatever. I just can’t resist your sweet-talking charisma. I hate you for being so charming.”

The recreational lounge. The most versatile space in Avengers Tower. It has been used for Stark’s business luncheons, sporting watch parties (primarily for residential Boston fanatic Captain Marvel), and miscellaneous celebrations such as the one being hosted tonight. The reason for this party? Tony and his fellow Avengers halted an attack on a New York power plant initiated by the alliance of Crimson Dynamo and Titanium Man, whom are en route to Ryker’s Island. Iron Man’s ensemble guests of honor include War Machine, Black Widow, Ant-Man, Hawkeye, Wasp, Winter Soldier, Falcon, Wolverine, Psylocke, Captain America, Captain Marvel, Thor, and Spider-Man. Betsy’s invitation was by way of Logan’s Avengers membership, and Clint and Janet are nowhere to be found. A large, rectangular table was positioned in the center of the area, with a silky, white tablecloth draped over it. Atop it were multitudes of food platters featuring the finest cheeses, meats, vegetables and chicken wings. A few yards to the left of the main table was a smaller, circular table boasting an oak-barreled drum complete with a spigot lever, housing copious quantities of Thor Odinson’s potent mead. Five similarly structured tables were spread across the surrounding area. Peter Parker had entered the premises, swiftly taking note of the other alliance members in attendance, most of them being clothed in casual wear, whilst walking towards the mead table occupied by Thor, Sam, and Bucky. Only Tony, Rhodey, and Natasha decided to go in formal and sophisticated.

“Ah, good evening to you, Sir Parker,” Thor beamed as the wall crawler seated himself to the right of the thunder god. The pararescueman and the ex-assassin were seated opposite his left. “It’s been a while since you last attended a social gathering. I, for one, am pleased to see you joining us.”

Waving briefly at Cap’s closest allies, Peter shrugged his shoulders, a small crooked smirk glancing his lips. “Well, I felt that getting out for some fresh air would be the first step out of the grieving process, goldilocks. Hey, you guys aren’t drinking his mead. What gives?”

Bucky held up his bottle of beer unashamed. “I’m good with my traditional lager, Peter. This stuff Thor brought in would KO me in moments. Sam, you willing to give it a try?”

A cheeky grin formed on Sam’s mouth as he chuckled. “The last time I drank that stuff, I somehow ended up in Cap’s suite… and in his bedroom, to boot! While the old man laughed off my misadventure, his photon-infused girlfriend wasn’t amused. She chased me around with a broomstick ‘til I left their quarters. But Peter, I’m sure with your enhanced metabolism, you could stomach a mug, perhaps?”

Cupping his chin with his left hand, Peter contorted his lips into a devious smile. “Please. I can down all kinds of alcohol any day. Gimme a mug!”

Thor slid a glass mug under the drum’s spout with his left hand whilst cranking the spout’s lever with his right hand, dispersing a frothy flow of the amber-shaded brew close to the mug’s sipping brim.

“Thanks, Thor,” Peter quickly cupped the transparent cup with both hands, pressed his lips on its brim, tilted it lightly upside down and gulped down the entirety of the beverage in seconds. He slammed his glass down onto the table and twirled his right-handed index finger high in the air. “Another round, goldilocks!”

His left elbow propped on the edge of the table, Thor clasped his own cheek as he examined Peter’s behavior after consuming one mug of Asgardian mead. His speech was moderately slurred, and his entire form wobbled from side to side. “I would strongly advise against another serving, Sir Parker. You may end up in a similar predicament to Sir Wilson’s, or perhaps worse.”

Peter slid the mug under the spout once again and tilted the lever to refill his drinking chalice for a second serving. “We live in the now, big man! I gotta stop crying and start living life.”

Once Peter drank down his latest helping of the sweetened alcohol, Thor clutched the emptied mug with his own hands, swiftly yanked it out of the web slinger’s grip and forcefully slammed it near a collective row of vacant mugs. “That’s quite enough, Sir Parker. May I suggest sitting elsewhere?” The bearded Norse god snatched a fistful of Peter’s shirt collar, hoisted him off his seat and dragged him towards a table occupied by Scott Lang, Logan and Betsy.

“…So Jan, Clint, Natasha and I were at a crosswalk, seconds away from being flattened by a large tanker truck hurled by two Doombots. I quickly enlarged myself to Giant-Man form, caught the massive vehicle with my hands and shunted it to the size of a Hess toy truck. I ended the skirmish by flattening one mech with my fist and punted the second one into the high heavens. So that was basically the highlight of the day. Oh, and I’m sure my three little buddies pulled off some sweet moves beforehand.”

With Betsy perched atop his lap and her arms encircling his neck, Logan approvingly nods. “Sounded like a pretty good day for you, bub. Oh, hey there, webs. Good to see you out and about.”

Once Thor forcefully seated Peter to Logan’s left, he retreated to the mead table. “Scottie! Wolvie! Betsy! So nice to see you all.”

Scott waved while Logan tilted over to Peter and took a brief whiff at his breath. “Damn, Pete. You smell worse than Jack Sparrow. Exactly how much of Thor’s mead did you chug?”

Peter held up his index and middle fingers, forming the bunny-ear hand gesture. “Just two mugs. No big deal, right?”

Logan shook his head, sighing. “That’s more than enough, even for someone like you. You can barely sit up properly, webs!”

Peter giggled mindlessly, his form swaying left and right before planting his right hand on Betsy’s left shoulder. “Oh, my posture is fine, hairball. But perhaps Lizzy here can adjust it accordingly with those smooth, delicate hands of hers. Say… Can I have a hug, Liz?”

“Of course, Peter,” the purple-haired telepath hopped off Logan’s lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Placing his hands on her waist, Peter lays his chin on her right shoulder as he briefly closes his eyes. “This feels very nice. I’ve been missing this kind of contact for ages. When this party’s over, whaddya say we head over to my suite and have some extra fun?”

Releasing herself from Peter’s grip, Betsy hurriedly walked him over to the mingling trio of Natasha, Tony and Rhodey, all of whom were standing near the dinner platter table. “That’s very flattering, but I’m accompanied by a date right now. Why don’t you engage in lively discussions with your Avenging allies?” Walking back towards her table, her piercing violet eyes bore into the simmering canucklehead’s steely blues as she initiated telepathic conversation. ‘ _Logan, everything’s fine. No need to make a scene. He’s grieving and inebriated.’_

_‘He ain’t pulling a stunt like that again, Betts,’_ Logan silently snarled with clenched teeth. _‘Grievin’ or not, Peter’s gotta learn to move on and maybe find himself a new woman in the process.’_

“Mr. Stark, good to see you! Colonel Rhodey, looking sharp like always!” Peter waved at Iron Man, then patted War Machine’s left shoulder. When his sights landed on the peerless Black Widow, he patted his right hand on the back of her neck. “Nattie, your exotic display of beauty never ceases to amaze me.”

A wry grin formed on the former red room graduate. “Thanks, Parker. That’s very sweet of you to say.”

His face leaning a few inches close to hers, Peter inquired via loud whisper: “May I dance with you, Nat? I’d love for you to show me those sweet moves you pull off on the battlefield.”

Natasha recoiled her head back upon exposure to Peter’s mead-infused breath. “Sorry, Pete. I’m not feeling very bouncy right now. How about we reminisce on our recent missions, or just life itself?”

Peter’s shoulders slouched and his eyebrows furrowed. “C’mon, Nat! You don’t wanna dance? Just one session. It’ll go by quick. At least hit me up with a big kiss!”

As the web slinger inched closer to Nat with puckered lips, Rhodey abruptly clasped his right wrist, tugged him to the nearby bar and planted him onto a stool near a cackling Carol and Steve. “Cap, Carol, your biggest fan is so thrilled to be hanging out with you both.” He leans over to Peter’s right ear and murmured: “Enough of this foolishness. Have a good time, but control yourself.”

When Rhodey backtracked to the platter table, Peter raised his arms in a rejoiceful manner. “Captain! No matter how many times I see you, I become such a fanboying geek. Glad you made it to the party, sir.”

With his right hand, Steve gave off a quick salute. “Happy to be here, Peter. I’m glad you made it as well.”

Carol turns her focus towards the increasingly troublesome arachnid Avenger. “How’re you holding up, Peter? I must say though, you’re looking a bit tipsy right now.”

Once again, Peter elicits hyena-like giggling from his vocal cords. “I’m not drunk, I’m having a good time. It’s good to be amongst friends, people who care about you the most. You know, you and I used to have something very special. Those personal moments with you were some of the best days of my life.”

Carol lightly gripped Peter’s left shoulder with her right hand. “Those were fun, eventful moments. But once you made your way back to Mary Jane, she granted you so much better days than I have. I want to assure you of one thing: Whether it’s Sam, Cap, myself or anyone else, whenever you’re in need of any help, give us a call and talk to us. We’re your friends, and we’ll be here for you at any given time.”

Peter grinned at Carol’s encouraging remarks, appreciatively nodding. “At any given time… like right now.” He leaned towards the half-Kree soldier’s face and firmly squeezed his lips on hers.

The initial reaction within her nerves was numbing shock. Those sensations contorted into agitated confusion. Then at last, they metamorphosized into forthright rage. Carol shoves Peter off her face with open palms, stumbling him backward and off of his collapsing barstool. His eyes widen, perplexed at his friend’s actions. “Carol, what’re you-”

“You fucking, filthy pig!” Carol hollers before swinging a right hook at his left cheek, tumbling him to the polished, hardwood floors like a sack of potatoes. Aiming her left-handed index finger across every last party attendee, she demanded to the gawking onlookers: “Back off, all of you!”

Mounting the wall crawler’s waist, Carol repeatedly thrusted left and right fists, bruises forming around his forehead, cheeks, and lips. Her pugilistic onslaught prematurely ceased as Steve curled his arms underneath her axillae, hoisting her off of Peter’s battered form. “Control yourself, Carol! This has gone far enough.”

Tony smacks his forehead with a left-handed open palm. “Why do my parties end up featuring at least one hostile fight? This is such an unhealthy trend.”

Yanking herself out of Steve’s grip, Carol pivoted face-to-face to her calm and collected boyfriend. “Why’re you defending this asshole?”

Steve’s eyelids narrowed. “I’m not. I’m deeply dismayed at Peter’s foolish actions, but beating him with fists will not improve his emotional status. You and I have long suspected that he’s been suffering through depression for a while now. We just weren’t sure about the severity of his sadness.”

Peter looked across the wide-ranging area, the countenances of his comrades ranging from scornful repulsion to pitiful disappointment. His gaze finally landed on Steve’s oceanic blues, eyes that displayed a forlorn empathy. “Peter, I believe the best course of action right now is for you to withdraw yourself from this party. Return to your suite and have a good night’s rest.”

Peter clumsily rose to his feet, having no intentions of staying at Avengers Tower, at least for tonight. Teary-eyed and mumbling repeated statements of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”, Peter ran out of the recreational lounge just as Clint and Janet had arrived at the premises. The belated pair, dressed in a deep purple suit and shimmering red dress respectively, craned their heads briefly at the departing web slinger, but otherwise paid no mind.

The astute archer darted his eyeballs left and right, observing that his fellow attendees were now gawking at their tardiness. Rhodey folded his arms and scowled at the worst-kept-secret lovers. “Where the hell have you been?”

They quickly glance at one another, then revert their eyes back at the mildly irritated War Machine. Clint was hoping that his fellow Avengers didn’t notice the smeared lipstick streaking from his cheek to his neck, nor the insane amount of love bites inflicted upon Janet’s neck. “Um… We were playing Super Smash Bros., and Jan mysteriously contracted leprosy on her neck.”

The first half of his claim was true, but Rhodey would have none of it. “Right, playing games causes Van Dyne to have a leprosy breakout on her damn neck. Who’re you fooling?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do grown ups play games, anyway? Eh, whatever. People need a variety of activities to unwind, and not everyone's interested in golf. I get all hot when I write up a Clint/Janet scene, and I'm not sure why. Final chapter's coming up, readers.


	3. Remorse And Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean devises a simple yet lengthy plan to help Peter regain his classic, jovial demeanor. The web slinger intends to make peace to all those that bore the brunt of his impulsive, foolish mistakes. Once such Avenger doesn't easily bequeath forgiveness, which leads to a tense standoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. The conclusion to this emotionally harrowing story. A little excitement happens here and there. Enjoy the final chapter!

-X Mansion, Present Hour

Peter Parker’s hands were interlaced atop his lap as he aimlessly stared across assorted items of furniture in addition to the portraits hanging on the walls. Turning his gaze back to Jean Grey, he simply shrugged his shoulders. “That’s how my night turned out. Got drunk like a fool, flirted with women, most of whom are in established relationships, and disrespected Cap by forcibly kissing Princess Sparklefists. Though I deserved the beating she gave me, I’m not proud of what I did to her. My heart greatly misses MJ, and my soul greatly longs for intimate contact once more. I went about my intentions the wrong way, and I couldn’t be more ashamed of myself.”

Jean smiled approvingly at Peter’s admittance to his mistakes, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I disagree with Carol placing her hands on you. Nevertheless, you’re taking responsibility for your misguided errors, Peter. Many individuals would’ve deflected blame towards others or the planet itself. Mary Jane’s death was an unfortunate tragedy, and you initially did nothing to stop the swelling of sadness within your heart. But maybe… Maybe the disrupted party was the moment you needed to reach out for one’s help. Instead of committing a foolish mistake such as suicide, you emerged from the darkest depths of melancholy and asked the most important question with three words of significance: I need help. So, here’s what will happen: My shifts as a guidance counselor run from 7:45 AM to 2:30 PM. You and I can hold meetings every Wednesday after school, when we can partake in various stress relief techniques and exercises. We can meet here at the Institute, or your base of Avengers Tower, your choice. You can overcome this, and I will be there for you every step of the way.”

“Wow, Jean. I couldn’t be more grateful for what you’ll be doing for me,” Peter’s voice cracked, feeling appreciative of Jean’s willingness to help him.

“I’m as much of a friend to you as the other Avengers. Friends should never let friends wallow in misery.”

As Jean concluded her plans for Peter’s emotional recovery, the pair of Logan and Betsy strolled into the living room. Once they saw the web slinger sitting with their fellow X-Man, Logan arched his left eyebrow. “What’re you doin’ here, webs? Thought you were back at your room.”

Peter scratched the back of his head. “I can’t stay at the Tower right now. Now Logan, about what I did to Elizabeth-”

Logan held up his right hand in a halting motion. “I’m not the one you should be apologizin’ to.”

“Liz, I’m sorry for coming on to you. I disregarded your being in a commitment with the angry hairball just so I can try fulfilling my selfish desires to quell my self-loathing. I was wrong to do so, drunk or not.”

Betsy nodded, wearing a light crook of a smile. “It’s quite alright, darling. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again. I’m unsure if I’ll be able to assuage Logan’s anger a second time.”

“Babe, I wasn’t gonna beat him up. I was just gonna scare him,” Logan chortled.

The limber telepath rolled her gorgeous violet eyes, her smile remaining steadfast. “Of course you were, Logan. Of course.”

Logan craned his head toward Jean. “Say Jeanie, if webhead ain’t stayin’ at the Tower, where is he gonna sleep tonight?”

Jean reverted her focus to Peter. “Peter… Would you like to spend the night here at the Institute?”

Peter quickly shook his head, a flicker of shame flashing in his eyes. “Jean, no. You’ve already done so much-”

“And I shall continue to assist you in your time of need. I’ll get you an air mattress from one of our storage rooms.”

As Peter stood up alongside Jean, he once again wrapped his arms around her hourglass waist and nestled his chin on her right shoulder. “Thanks so much for everything. I’ll do my best getting myself back to the old Peter Parker you once knew and loved. I won’t let you down.”

They released their grips upon each other, and Jean sported a friendly, pearly grin. “You’re still that person, Peter. You just need time to rediscover yourself.”

The web slinger placed himself down on the couch, continuously smiling at Jean as she exited the living room.

Logan noticed Betsy chuckling to herself. “What’s gotten you so happy?”

Betsy leaned to his right ear. “I believe our grieving widow’s in the gradual process of leaving the past behind. Couldn’t be happier for him.”

Logan folded his arms, smirking. “It took a party-gone-bad to open his eyes, though. At least he won’t be mopin’ around the Tower anymore, thanks to Jean’s guidance.”

Betsy bobbed her head side-to-side. “Sure, _guidance_. That’s what Peter’s looking forward to, never mind the fact that Jean’s an attractive woman with luscious red hair.”

Logan’s left hand cupped his mouth, half snorting and half chuckling. “Okay Betts, now you’re full of shit. He ain’t gonna rebound so soon, and Jeanie likes assertive, tough men. I’ll bet you dinner they’re strictly platonic!”

As she cradled Logan’s midsection with her left arm, Betsy nestled her head on the crook of his neck. “Wager accepted, love.”

-Avengers Tower, Next Day

“So Slim had an extramarital affair with the White Queen, which garnered a big no-no from you. Then he and little miss Frost had a falling out later in life and broke up, which led to her departing the team. Sometime after that, you guys tried to preserve your fraying marriage. You guys couldn’t come to grips with the effects of the affair, so you decided to carry out divorce proceedings. So here you are, a single woman enacting the duties of guidance counselor while defending mutantkind.”

Jean nodded as she and the wall crawler were sipping on insulated paper cups of coffee at the front lobby of Avengers Tower. “Yep, pretty much. Scott is a tremendous leader, tactician and friend. He and I eventually rekindled our association with each other, albeit under the friendship category. I just couldn’t move past his transgressions. What I did was best for everyone involved.”

“I hear you. Oh, thanks for the coffee, in addition to driving-”

The snarling voice of an angry Air Force pilot interrupted Peter’s remarks. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back here, jackass! Get your ass here right now!”

With their eyes widened, Jean and Peter turned to see an irate Carol Danvers trotting the small section of lobby stairs with a bustling Steve Rogers not far behind. “Time to finish what I’ve started, friendly neighborhood fuckface.”

With fists balled at her sides, Carol made a marching beeline towards Peter when the omega-level telepath stepped in her way, blocking his form from possible harm. “That’s close enough, Captain.”

Carol’s lips adorned a smarmy, malicious grin. “Beat it, Jean. I only want to rearrange the webhead’s face once again.”

The glare of Jean Grey bore into Carol’s equally fierce brown orbs. “You’re not laying a finger on Peter. Walk away.”

“Carol, please listen to her. This isn’t-” Steve chimed in but was cut off.

“Zip it, Rogers! Jean, I just want a word with Parker. You can leave now.”

Maintaining her gaze on the half-Kree warrior, Jean shook her head. “I’m not leaving Peter’s side until I can absolutely guarantee his safety. Leave us now.”

Carol’s eyebrows furrowed as she planted her hands on her own hips. “Do you have any idea what he did to me last night?”

Jean nodded as she folded her arms. “Peter told me about the party and his shameful actions. He has genuine remorse for what he did to you. Let it go.”

“Aww, you’ll believe anything Peter Parker tells you, right? Let me guess: He fucked you last night, right? After all, he’s always been partial towards redheads.”

Carol felt a hand grip her right shoulder, spinning her form around to face a rare, infuriated glare from Captain America. “CAROL SUSAN JANE DANVERS! You went too far with your last statement!”

Practically every single suit-wearing executive and SHIELD guard were now goggling at the verbally combative quartet, especially toward a fuming Steve and a malignantly angry Carol. The countenance of the tenacious space heroine morphed into that of regretful disappointment, subsequently lowering her head. Peter did screw up, but it was really nothing worth arguing over as he was sincerely apologetic for his actions. “Stevie, I didn’t mean-”

Steve aimed his right-handed index finger at Jean and Peter. “Don’t look at me, look at them.”

Carol turns to face the embattled pair. A pregnant silence ensues, and Captain Marvel finally speaks. “Peter, I’m sorry for making wrongful insinuations regarding Jean and yourself. Jean, I’m sorry for using you as a thinly veiled jab against Mary Jane. It was uncalled for, and you both deserved better.”

Fidgeting his hands, Peter replied: “All is forgiven, ex-Warbird. I’m sorry for slobbering my lips all over yours. I was missing the experiences of affectionate contact, but I’m here to own up to my mistakes, not conjure excuses.”

As Mr. Stark’s employees slowly reverted their focuses back to their personal interests, Carol grinned as she encircled her arms around Steve’s neck from behind. “Apology accepted, Parker. I’m relieved to be putting this dreadful moment behind all of us.”

Jean slowly planted her left hand on Peter’s brown hair, deftly stroking his smooth follicles with her silky fingertips. “Carol, you’re definitely wrong about us being together. But I’m pretty sure it’s a prospect Peter wouldn’t mind immersing himself into now, wouldn’t he? What do you say, Pete?”

His face cheeks flushing, the web slinger flinches in embarrassment over Jean’s somewhat playful remarks. “C’mon, Jean! Way to put me on blast, girl.”

All four alliance allies chuckled at the lighthearted situation. Resting her chin on the good old captain’s left shoulder, Carol inquired of one thing: “So old man, what would you like to do today? We can do laser tag, visit the arcade, or attempt an escape room.”

“I’m honestly not sure, Carebear. Why don’t you surprise me? I do know we should go to lunch afterward.”

Carol peered at the idle pair. “Jean, webhead? Would you care to join us?”

“We appreciate your offer, Captains-” Peter replied but Jean interjected.

“And we will graciously accept it. Peter’s so eager to reacquaint himself with society.”

Peter darted his hazel eyes towards Jean’s emerald greens, an air of suspicion twinkling within his as he initiated a telepathic conversation. _‘I’m planning to chill in my suite all day, and you’ve gotta start your shift in school soon. You’re gonna be late!’_

_‘Don’t worry about me, Peter. I’ll call Ororo and tell her I’m taking the rest of the day off. You need to unwind; Think of this as the next step of your healing process. Alongside our friends, you and I will be focused on a day of fun-filled moments.’_

Jean lays her hand onto Peter’s right shoulder, and Peter mirrors her actions as they exchange smiles. _‘You’re right, Jean. Today is the beginning of many wonderful days to come.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter may not quite be back to his place of zen, but time can heal even the most severe wounds with the right support system. I think Jean will be his perfect voice of reason. I told you that Steve makes a great moral compass for Carol when she gets out of hand! I'm working on other projects as I speak, but typical life and my day job makes me your eternal slow sea bass. Thanks for reading! See you next time.


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